Ranger Does the Burg
by PricklySare
Summary: Ranger proves that he really IS just a man.  Babe.


_**Ranger Does the Burg**_

_**By: Marge, Meg, and PricklySare**_

"Babe. When's dinner? I'm hungry."

I sighed and resisted slamming the door to the fridge. Married life had dissolved from sexual bliss to monotony. Five years ago I'd married the love of my life, the Cuban sex-god himself, Carlos Manoso. Six months of non-stop sex resulted in our first child, a sweet baby boy named Mateo. Two months after Mateo's first birthday, we were graced with the presence of Xander and Xavier. The boys birth meant our attendance at Plum family dinners went from once a month, to twice a month, to once a week, and finally two or three times a week. As the visits increased, so did Ranger's appreciation of the Burg lifestyle my father embodied. Before long they would both slouch in front of the big screen watching sports, waiting for the symbolic ringing of the dinner bell at 6:00, and then sneaking off to the garage for an after dinner cigar.

Ranger and my father would end up on opposite ends of the dinner table, avoiding all conversation, grimacing over Grandma, ignoring the kids, shoveling food into their mouths. While my mother continued to serve the obligatory vegetable with dinner, over time even Ranger passed them by. On the twins' first birthday, Ranger made an unexpected announcement at the family party. "As of today, I am not longer the acting CEO of Rangeman." While I was confused, about his decision, I was thrilled that I would no longer be raising three boys on my own. Too bad things didn't quite work out that way.

Slowly, so that I didn't really notice it, Ranger started picking up bad habits, until suddenly he was no longer stocking our fridge with twigs and leaves, but was more likely to steal a French fry or two from the boys. Water bottles were replaced with sports drinks, the occasional six pack of beer for a barbeque became a standard case on each shopping trip. My own personal Batman traded in his two guns and a knife for Mexican beer and a universal remote.

Sadly, those little clues didn't register with me, and it wasn't until I was metaphorically slapped in the face by the reality that our bed was used for sleeping instead of sex that I really started to worry. Instead of long sensual matings, multiple orgasms, and rough passion declined to quickies during the boys' nap times. Where Ranger once loved to kiss every inch of me, when Mateo decided it was "icky" to see his parents show affection, those kisses started becoming chaste, and few and far between.

While I used to find it endearing to see our oldest sitting on Ranger's lap while he explained something to him, now watching them sit in front of the TV, while I was up to my knees in laundry made me want to cry...or blow something up. Namely, Ranger's newest pride and joy, his gold Buick minivan. What had happened to my man of mystery?

Within a year of Ranger's decision to leave Rangeman, his workouts were in a noticeable decline; his usual ten mile run slowly decreased until he rarely ran at all, except to get out of the torrential rain. He no longer joined the guys on the mats, preferring instead to do his workouts on our new Wii. His use of the Wii slowed considerably when he came across World of Warcraft. Gone were the days of covert missions, the only time he was in the wind was when he was standing in front of the air conditioner, so I guessed he had to make up for it some how.

Ranger had always claimed he was just a man, but I'd had no idea how true that was until after the boys were born. We hadn't had sex in over a month and I was feeling restless. Ranger was taking a shower, so I decided to take Batman by the wings and ravish him. I climbed, naked, into the shower and slid my arms around his slick wet torso, recoiling in shock when I realized that his legendary six-pack had morphed into a keg. Like the Grand Canyon or the crumbling of the Parthenon, it must have started slowly. A missed workout, a piece of carrot cake. Corrupting the temple once in a while, turned into worshiping the gravy gods, while being an Xbox hero.

I was torn from my reverie by Ranger turning the volume up on the TV and a loud crashing sound coming from the living room, as three identical "Uh ohs" followed by the sound of running feet and the screen door slamming.

"Ranger, what was that?" When his only response was to grunt before turning the TV up louder I wondered how life had gone so wrong. Walking into the living room my heart dropped to my feet. Ranger still sat in his recliner, Xbox controller in hand, and a headset strapped to his ear. On the floor beside the fire place was what was left of Grandma Mazur.

Later that night after six bedtime stories, three trips to the potty, four demands for water, and a tantrum, I finally fell exhausted into the bed. Ranger was leaned back against the headboard, his broad chest covered by a black team Jacob shirt, his laptop resting on his thighs, reading his latest update of erotic fan fiction. His semi-hard cock was resting against the keyboard, and he looked over at me with his sensual wolf grin. I couldn't even muster up an eye roll, I was too exhausted.

"Babe, chupame," he whispered in my ear.

"Not tonight, Ranger," I sighed. "It's late and I'm exhausted."

"That's okay, then we'll just fuck." I didn't even bother to respond because he'd already removed my panties and was roughly pushing his fingers inside me. "Damn, Babe. Where's the lube? You're dry and I don't want an Indian burn on my dick."  
He reached into the bedside table and spread lube onto his cock while I just lay there, like the cold dead fish I was feeling like. I didn't even bother faking a moan when he thrust inside of me, because it wouldn't have mattered anyway. After three thrusts he groaned and collapsed on top of me. Suddenly, I'd had enough and I snapped. "Get off of me you worthless excuse for a man! Don't touch me, stop!" He wasn't moving and I was starting to panic. I couldn't breathe, and I needed to get a way. Far away from the horror my life had become. Marrying Morelli wouldn't have been as bad as this. At least with Joe, I knew what I was getting into.

The weight shifted and Ranger started speaking to me, his voice urgent, and...loving. A sound I hadn't heard in years. "Babe, wake up. You're dreaming. Come on, open your eyes, it's okay. You're safe, with me."

"No! No! I'm not! You're worse than Joe! I can't be married to you. Our children destroyed Grandma!"

The gentle hold turned rough and his voice broke through my inner panic. "Babe. What the hell are you talking about?" I sat up and took notice of my surroundings. The opulent furnishings of our honeymoon suite, Ranger's face creased with worry, and his beautiful naked body.

I let out a shuddering breath and said, "I just had the most awful dream," I paused thinking, **the right word may be effective, but no word was ever as effective as a rightly timed pause. ** I wondered how to explain the dream without offending his ego. I decided that **truth was more of a stranger than fiction**, and blurted out, "We were living the Burg life." As quickly as I could, I poured out the horrid tale, repressing a shudder as I described the shower scene. When I was finished I sat quietly waiting for his reaction.

Without warning I was pinned beneath his gloriously toned body, every hard naked inch of him pressed against me, and he growled in my ear, "Why don't I show you just how Un-Burg-like I am?"

Word Count without Title, Disclaimer, or Author Note: 1361

Two Prompts for BS Challenge


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